


Catbread Conversations

by der_tanzer



Series: Catbread [34]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray has a problem, but Quinlan isn’t much for talking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catbread Conversations

Murray got into bed in his thin silk pajamas and curled around Ted’s body, remembering how much the lieutenant had always liked that. It was early February, the nights cool even in Southern California, but if the silk could tempt Quinlan into paying attention to him, it would be worth the mild chill. His arm snaked around Ted’s waist, hugging him close.

“Silk in February? Is it Valentine’s Day already?”

“Next week,” Murray grinned. “I was just thinking how much you always liked me in silk, and it has been a while…”

“Has it? Didn’t you wear those pajamas at Christmas?”

“That’s not what I meant. I did wear them then, but we didn’t make love. It’s—well, it’s been almost four months.”

“Has it?” Ted was dissembling, hoping to shift the conversation onto less dangerous ground. But there wasn’t really any safe ground within reach.

“Well, yes. I think it was your birthday in October.”

“What, are you marking a calendar or something?”

“It was your _birthday_ , Lieutenant. Of course I remember. And, quite frankly, jerking off alone in the shower for the last four months has made kind of an impression. Can’t you just tell me what you want? If you don’t like the pajamas—”

“That’s not what’s wrong and you know it,” he snapped, and hated himself a little when his lover flinched.

“So it’s me you don’t like. I wish you’d just said so.” Murray drew his arm back slowly, the shame of having believed his embrace to be welcome increasing with every second.

“Will you stop it?” Ted growled. He wanted to grab Murray’s hand, and when it was too late he almost turned over and did it anyway. But he couldn’t afford to make himself that vulnerable. The very fact that Murray had brought it up had him feeling like he was snowshoeing in avalanche country. It wouldn’t take much to wipe him out completely.

“Stop what? Is _everything_ I do wrong now?” Murray asked, and the words were the rumbling of snow.

“Baby, stop it. You know better than that. Just because we aren’t having as much sex, that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“I didn’t say love. I said you don’t _like_ me. You haven’t liked me for a long time.”

“That’s not true. Come on, Murray. You know I can’t always just get it up on the spur of the moment, anytime you want.” He said it bitterly, as if Murray had made a totally unreasonable demand. But he was sweating, terrified of being called out on his own unreasonableness.

“I never asked you to. All I asked was for you to let me touch you, but you don’t like that anymore. And you certainly don’t want to touch me. I don’t know what’s going on, Ted. This—this isn’t what you promised.”

“What I _promised_? And just what the hell did I promise?” He knew perfectly well, but there was always the small hope that Murray might screw up. A wrong word, a less than perfect turn of phrase, anything he could jump on that might distract from the matter at hand.

“Before you had the surgery, we talked about this. You said that even if you had to have radiation and lost the desire for sex, you would still care about my needs. All I had to do was remind you. But I’ve been reminding you for months and you just get mad. What am I supposed to take from that, except that you don’t like me anymore? Maybe you’re just bored with the whole skinny geek thing.”

“You remember everything I said five years ago?” Ted asked with a kind of wonder.

“Will you stop focusing on the details? Are you tired of me or not?”

“I’m tired of this conversation. Murray, I love you. I’m always gonna love you. I don’t know what else I can say.”

“This isn’t about words and you know it. We have all the _words_ we need. This is about physical intimacy. We _used_ to have that, too, and now I feel like it’s slipping away and it scares me. I still need you, Lieutenant, and I need you to need me.”

Ted swallowed hard and turned onto his back, shivering a little under the weight of the offer he was about to make. He vaguely recalled having offered this in the past, but Murray had never brought it up. Since he was almost certain to now, Ted decided he may as well get the points for doing it first.

“Baby, I _do_ need you. I need you more than anything. I can’t even imagine life without you, and if you say you don’t believe me, then you’re lying.”

“No, I know that. But _you_ know that’s not what I meant. Sure, you need me to work in the store and balance the books, not to mention doing most of the work around the house, but apparently you don’t need affection, and you don’t care that I do.”

“That’s not true,” Ted sighed brokenly, his anger gone. “Look, if it’s that important to you, you can fuck me. We don’t even have to do it in the shower.”

Murray remembered that conversation as well. Ted had told him that if he couldn’t get an erection he would still want them to be connected. He’d offered to be submissive for the rest of their lives, and Murray had believed him. But suddenly he didn’t think Ted had meant it after all. What he was hearing now was a man grudgingly prepared to make a huge sacrifice. What he needed to hear was passion, but all he was getting was resignation.

Since Ted’s prostatectomy, they’d fallen into a comfortable pattern of cuddling and gentle affection, with sex every Saturday or Sunday. But last spring it had somehow become every two weeks, and then by summer, once a month. They celebrated Ted’s birthday in October with an exuberant night of erotic fun, and suddenly that was the end of it. Murray sometimes thought about that and wondered if he’d done something wrong that night. Maybe he’d been _too_ exuberant, although that had never been a problem before. He wished desperately that he knew what was going on, but since he didn’t, he decided to follow Ted’s lead and protect himself.

“That’s a really attractive offer and everything,” he said, already climbing out of bed and reaching for his robe, “but no thanks. I’m talking about love here, not a pity fuck.” Murray put on his long silk robe and stormed out of the room, leaving Ted to lie there alone, counting his mistakes.

He heard the office door open and close and was relieved that Murray hadn’t gone far. But he still didn’t know what to do. Even after everything they’d been through together—the quiet humiliation at the hands of his doctors, the incredibly intimate care Murray had provided during his recovery—he still didn’t know if he could own the truth. It wasn’t that Murray wouldn’t understand, the kid understood _everything_ , but he wasn’t sure how much he _wanted_ to be understood.

Still, Murray had walked out on him. And he’d used the words _pity fuck_. That was bad. And Ted had to admit, if only to himself, that he had deliberately made it sound that way. He wasn’t even sure why—if Murray had said yes, he would have done it gladly—but some perversity had made him phrase it as a challenge, something Murray couldn’t possibly agree to. Maybe because once it was over, after Murray had come and wanted to talk, Ted might find himself telling the truth. Somehow Murray always got the truth out of him.

“Well,” he muttered to himself, “if he’s gonna find out anyway, we might as well get it over with. The things that guy drives me to…” Ted got up, looked at his robe, and passed it by. He wasn’t naked and he wasn’t cold. He left the bedroom in his boxers and strappy t-shirt, let himself into the office without knocking, and walked boldly up to the desk where Murray sat typing out code at an alarming rate. The only light came from a lamp on the desk, a harsh circle that illuminated the keyboard, though Murray never glanced down at his hands. Nor did he turn around, though he must have heard the door.

Ted stood behind him for a moment, waiting for Murray to acknowledge him in some way. When that didn’t happen, he tried clearing his throat. Murray continued to ignore him, though the effort made his hands tremble and his shoulders ache. He went on typing, no longer writing sensible code but unaware of the gibberish that had taken its place. Ted gripped the back of his chair and spun it around slowly, not missing the way Murray’s fingers kept moving for a few seconds, as if the keyboard were still beneath them. Then his hands fell to his lap and he looked up into Ted’s face, his expression still angry and defiant, unloved and afraid of pity.

“What do you want?” he asked, more harshly than he’d intended. Quinlan flinched imperceptibly, knowing he deserved that, and probably more.

“You. I want you,” Ted whispered, cupping his cheek gently with one hand. Murray stiffened but didn’t try to pull away. After a few seconds, he relaxed a little and Quinlan knew it would be okay. Or it would be if he didn’t screw up again. “Baby, I’m sorry. I _have_ been neglecting you, but it doesn’t have anything to do with you, okay?”

“How can you losing interest in me _not_ have anything to do with me?” he asked, logically and without emotion. A dozen answers ran through Ted’s mind, and he chose the only one he thought would really say it all.

Slowly, stiffly, he lowered himself to the floor, kneeling between Murray’s feet. He spread open the robe, letting his hands graze Murray’s sharp ribs and prominent hipbones, teasing him with the soft tickle of silk.

“Wait, Lieutenant,” he whispered, suddenly stricken with guilt. “You don’t have to—”

“Yeah, I do. I need you, Murray. All the time, for everything.” He started unbuttoning Murray’s shirt from the bottom, caressing the smooth skin of his stomach, feeling the shiver of arousal that always gave him away. Murray was good at blackjack because he could count cards; he had no poker face at all.

Ted leaned forward and kissed his soft belly, subtly brushing his chin against Murray’s stiffening cock, smiling at the tiny spot of wetness already soaking through his pants. He brushed his lips across it as he sat back, and Murray’s whole body shuddered. Then Ted was pulling his pants down and Murray raised his hips, sighing at the pleasant feel of the silk sliding across his skin. He wanted to protest when Ted leaned over him and licked up the length of his cock, but he was having trouble forming words. Ted grabbed his ass in both hands and held him still, bobbing and sucking, alternating between deep throating him and teasing the sensitive slit with his tongue. Murray gave up his aloof pose almost at once, hooking his ankles together behind Ted’s back and holding his head with both hands.

It was ecstasy for a few minutes, but Murray had no stamina anymore. He simply wasn’t used to this much stimulation. Ted felt the tremble in Murray’s thighs, the sweat breaking out over his body, and knew he was going to come. He swallowed hard, over and over, working his throat muscles against the head of Murray’s cock, and was rewarded with a string of soft, incomprehensible cries as hot semen spilled down his throat. He went on sucking and swallowing until Murray pulled away, and wasn’t at all surprised to find his own dick hard for the first time in months. He stroked himself absently as he kissed Murray’s sweat-slick thighs and softening cock.

Murray lay back in his chair, panting harshly, petting Ted’s hair and trying to figure out what to say next. The answer came when Ted sat back on his heels and Murray saw what he was doing. In a flash, he slithered out of the chair and straddled Quinlan’s muscular thighs, kissing him fiercely. Ted finished unbuttoning Murray’s shirt and hauled him up close with an arm around his narrow waist, under the tickling, teasing silk. Murray cupped the thick cock between them and pressed it to his belly, squeezing and rocking against it as they devoured each other. He thought this would be it and was prepared to bring his lover to orgasm against his abdomen, pleased that there would be a happy ending for Ted after all. Then his lover spoke, his voice gruff and shy.

“You still want to fuck, or are you played out for tonight?”

“Do I want you to fuck me?” Murray giggled, almost giddy with excitement. “God, yes.” He leaned back in Ted’s arms and reached for the desk with one impossibly long arm. There were all kinds of non-computer-related things in the bottom drawer, and he grinned hugely as he presented his lover with a cock ring and a tube of Astroglide. Ted put the ring on and fastened it with fingers that trembled.

“I’d eat you first, but I don’t think I could last that long,” he said hoarsely as he slipped a well-lubed finger up Murray’s ass.

“Whatever you want,” Murray sighed, raising up on his knees a little before rocking back onto that welcome hand.

“Oh, this is what I want. Don’t worry about that.” His free hand caught in Murray’s hair, pulling his head down to kiss him as he worked a second finger inside. Murray gasped, a sharp intake of air through his nose that didn’t interrupt the hungry, searching kiss. He exhaled in a moan that Quinlan could taste, hot and sweet with desire.

Murray gave voice to a whimpering sob when Ted’s fingers found his prostate, massaging him into a quiet frenzy of need. It didn’t matter at all that he was forty-three years old, or that he’d just come a few minutes ago. After four months without so much as a handjob or a dry hump, just the skin on skin contact would have been enough to get him hard again. And hard he was, achingly so, in desperate need of fucking whether he could come again or not. He scrambled to pull Ted’s shirt off, frantic for more skin, for the unmuffled warmth of his body and the wiry scratch of chest hair against his sensitive nipples. Ted stopped long enough to cooperate and Murray sobbed again when the broad, talented fingers returned to kneading his tender gland.

“Are you ready, baby? Can you come?” he whispered, unnerved by Murray’s wordless, helpless pleading.

“I don’t know,” Murray panted, “but I’ve never been more ready to try.” He grabbed the lube and squeezed some onto his hand without breaking stride. Every part of his body was alive with need, his pulse beating in his cock, his ass, thundering in his ears and flashing behind his eyes. He toyed with Ted’s long, broad dick, slicking it thoroughly before shifting forward and hugging him around the neck.

Ted picked him up, one hand under his hip and the other on his ass, two fingers still buried inside. Murray groaned pure satisfaction as his lieutenant finally spread him open and penetrated him properly, shoving his cock in as his fingers retreated. Murray took over swiftly, lifting himself up before plunging down again, taking every centimeter that he could, then taking more on the next thrust and the next. He sobbed and growled and moaned in turns, every thrust igniting another surge of pleasure, each demanding its own response. Ted gripped his cock, jerking it hard and fast, holding the sensitive tip against the softest part of his belly, and Murray fucked him harder and faster in return.

“Oh, jeezus, baby,” Ted groaned, his arm tightening around Murray’s back. “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m sorry. I love you, Murray, baby—holy _fuck_.” Murray sped his thrusts, clenching every muscle in his body as tight as he could, squeezing and pounding out Ted’s climax even as Ted tried to apologize for it. They cried out together, Murray just for the joy of feeling Ted shudder and gasp in his arms, but the frantic pace didn’t slow. Murray wasn’t certain he could come again, but he wouldn’t stop trying until he had to.

“Is it all right?” he panted, knowing how sensitive a man was after he came, but also that Ted liked it.

“No, baby, take your time,” Quinlan grinned back. He definitely wouldn’t come again, but he also wouldn’t lose his erection as long as he wore the ring. Murray captured his mouth in an eager kiss and didn’t let go until he came, his orgasm crashing through him like a breaking wave. Ted held him as he bucked and sobbed, stroking his back and making soft soothing sounds, letting him know how loved he was.

Only when Murray went limp in his arms did Ted finally release the strap that maintained his erection. It faded quickly and Murray had no choice but to let him go. He rose regretfully and gave Ted a hand standing up, supporting him while he worked the stiffness from his knee.

“Are you okay?” he asked, fiddling with the hem of his pajama shirt. “I—I didn’t mean for you to—to…”

“I swear, if you say the words _pity fuck_ , I won’t let you shower with me,” Quinlan said sternly, through a genuinely sweet smile.

“I wasn’t going to,” Murray smiled back. “But I have the feeling I guilted you into it, even though I didn’t mean to. Was it at least good for you?”

“Baby, it was great. I’m sorry I forgot for so long how great it could be.” He gripped Murray’s hand tightly and they left the office together. Neither spoke as Ted started the shower and Murray laid out the towels. His shirt was wet along the hem and he threw it in the hamper before stepping into the tub. Ted took a moment to look at him, admiring the sight of the water running down his slender frame and beading on his skin, then soaped a soft cloth and began tenderly to bathe him.

“Can I ask a question without making you mad?”

“Probably. I’m in a pretty good mood,” Ted shrugged.

“Do you think we’ll make love more often? Or have you gotten your fill for a while?”

“If I was gonna get mad, that’d probably do it. But I guess I had it coming. Baby, I’m sorry about all this. I know I promised I’d always take care of you, but when I really started having trouble, I didn’t want you to know. You expect me to get a hard on when I touch you, so if I didn’t, you’d have figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” he asked gently. Ted was washing his back and Murray knew it was easier for him to talk if they didn’t have to look each other in the eye.

“That I _couldn’t_. It was easier on my ego to let you think I just didn’t want to. I guess I forgot about your ego.”

“Well, I never had much of one,” Murray said lightly. “But physical intimacy is really important to me. I just need to be close to you. And sometimes it has to be, you know, sexual. Not always,” he hastened to add, “but sometimes.”

“More than three times a year, I take it?”

“If it’s not too much to ask.”

“No, it’s not too much. But here’s the deal: if I agree to fool around whenever you want, up to once a week, you have to agree to not make me have this conversation again.”

“That’s a good deal. If you keep your word, we won’t have to talk about it. But if you start blowing me off again, I’m going to call you on it. I love you too much to let this go.”

“I love you, too,” Ted murmured, almost too softly to be heard over the pattering of the shower. But he kissed Murray between the shoulder blades, and Murray understood.

They redressed for bed, Murray in fresh silk pajamas and Quinlan in boxers without the t-shirt, and snuggled together under the warm comforter. They’d snuggled a lot over the last few months, but it had always left Murray feeling shut out and unsatisfied, as if Ted was holding him at arm’s length even when he was wrapped tight in those arms. He didn’t feel like that tonight, though. Tonight it was a natural extension of the profound intimacy they had been sharing for the last hour.

This time Ted kept his word and they never had that conversation again.


End file.
